


when the sun meets the moon

by tetsuyas



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Introspection, M/M, Minor Injuries, Slow Burn, atla!AU, author waxes poetry again, author's love letter to jisung via minho, avatar minho, firebender jisung, jisung gets injured at one point (minor)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetsuyas/pseuds/tetsuyas
Summary: Scientifically, it makes no logical sense: both the sun and the moon rise from the east, and set in the west. Every day, every night, for all of time. An endless, glorious, unyieldingly beautiful cycle. And yet, there are special occasions. Moments, brief flashes in time when one may think that the two celestial bodies touch for just an instant, in which case the cycle is broken.---Avatar-in-Training Lee Minho travels to the Fire Nation, falls in love, learns how to firebend, and makes a few new friends along the way (not in that particular order, of course).
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix (implied), Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin (implied)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [softvoice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softvoice/gifts), [dawnshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnshine/gifts), [risutokki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/risutokki/gifts).



> hey everyone! since this is just a bending au and was never intended to fit in somewhere along the timeline of the TLOK/ATLA, the setting + time are intentionally a little vague :) here, the different nations are all buddy buddy which is why there are all types of benders where the story takes place, in the capital of the Fire Nation.
> 
> also, i almost exclusively listened to a playlist made by spotify called "The Most Beautiful Songs in the World" while writing this. It can be found [here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1DX9Z3vMB2b8im?si=EAXT2PdnQZ6cVOmsY7qgVQ)
> 
> this is my first work in a long time, and also my longest work ever (round of applause for ao3 user tetsuyas)! i hope you enjoy reading it!

Air and smoke seep into the nooks and crannies of Capital City— the faintest reminder that although the city has become a bustling cultural center and trading hub, where benders and non-benders alike from all around the world come to create lives for themselves, it is still the capital of the Fire Nation. 

At least, that is what earthbender and avatar-in-training Lee Minho thinks as he steps foot past the city walls. The cobblestone, with its grooves and cracks, is a welcome comfort that soothes his dirt-loving soul after spending the past year and a half mastering waterbending with the Northern Water Tribe. Even now, he shivers a little thinking about the precariousness of ice, and how he felt like every step he took was more and more uncertain the first few days he stayed there. 

Although traditionally earthbender avatars learn waterbending as their final element, Omashu’s crown prince had convinced him to head to the Northern Water Tribe next. It may or may not have been related to the fact that he was supposedly exchanging love letters with the prince of the water tribe, and the scroll he had pressed into Minho’s hands before he and Chan had departed only seemed to add onto the rumor; however, said prince had also arranged for free travel all the way to the North Pole, so the young avatar wasn’t complaining.

He feels even worse for his best friend Chan, who he had been traveling with since the two left their home kingdom Omashu; his friend was one of the most talented earthbenders he knew, but was both prone to seasickness and weak against colder temperatures, making him one miserable guy these past 18 months.

Well, they can both put it past them now. After all, Minho’s officially mastered waterbending, to the grudging admittance of his slightly pompous and old waterbending instructor (screw  _ you _ , Master Park, he thinks a little bitterly). On top of that, he left the tribe with two new companions —a waterbender named Hwang Hyunjin and his childhood friend Yang Jeongin — bringing their little gang to four. 

After asking a shopkeeper for directions, they set off towards the royal palace, where Minho hopes to seek an audience with the Fire Lord so that he can find a firebending master. On their way through the city, he can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. The bright colors, the constant low thrum of voices and machinery, and the near barrage of different aromas are all worlds away from the pristine architecture and rigid society of the Northern Water Tribe that felt suffocating and exhausting. 

Per Jeongin’s request, they stop halfway to buy some flaming fire flakes. After all, all it takes is one well-timed use of the Yang Jeongin-certified puppy eyes and the others will do whatever he asks for. At least the fire flakes are delicious, and Minho bursts into laughter seeing Hyunjin frantically fan his tongue and jump around from the spice. 

One missed turn, two squabbles about directions, and three hours later, they arrive at the palace, and a servant shows Minho into a large conference room, where several rather unhappy-looking officials surround a large oak table. He briefly makes eye contact with an extraordinarily cute boy with dark hair and shiny eyes and the slightest bit of a pout and— _stop being gay for one second and focus on talking to the fucking_ Fire Lord _,_ _you idiot_ , Minho berates to himself before tearing his eyes away to look at Fire Lord Kang. 

He bows to her, careful to not accidentally piss her off and get them kicked out of the Fire Nation. The Fire Lord is, for the most part, kind and forgiving, but he doesn’t want to risk his chances. 

“Fire Lord Kang,” he begins, “I would be honored if you could recommend me a firebending master who I could study under, as well as have a place to stay for the duration of my training here.”

“Of course, Avatar Minho,” she replies calmly. 

Minho envies her grace, the way her inflection betrays no emotion and how she effortlessly commands attention. On the other hand, he feels like he’s stumbling his way through Avatar-hood and adulthood at the same time, resulting in one gigantic snowballing wheel of mishaps as he barrels through the four elements. 

“If I may, Fire Lord Kang,” one man speaks up. When her eyes shift over to his form and she nods, he continues. “My son and Jisung are available to teach Avatar Minho.”

The two boys to his right immediately sit up straight—Changbin and Jisung, Minho’s assuming, and he’s pleased to note that Extraordinarily Cute Boy From Earlier is going to be one of his two teachers. 

“On top of that, Jisung’s a prodigy,” the man claps a firm hand onto Cute Boy’s shoulder. ( _ no one sees the boy wince. _ ) “I’ve taken him in since his parents moved to the Southern Water Tribe, and I’ve never seen anyone as talented as he is at firebending.”

“Thank you, Chief State Councilman Seo.” Fire Lord Kang shifts her attention back to Minho, who almost prickles under her piercing gaze. “Would that be satisfactory with you, Avatar Minho?” 

_ Good heaven _ _ s _ , Minho thinks.  _ He’s lucky that Fire Lord Kang is a good and kind ruler, because if he were any more of a coward he would have probably started trembling in front of her. He can’t wait to get out of her line of sight. _

Outwardly, he smiles and puts on his best Avatar voice, replying, “Of course, Fire Lord Kang. Thank you as well as Chief State Councilman Seo for being so cooperative.” He bows deeply again, before turning to the two boys—Changbin and Jisung. “I look forward to being in your care.” 

Whereas Changbin remains stony-faced, most likely a result of years of being the son of an important Fire Nation official, Jisung smiles reassuringly at Minho, making his cheeks bunch up adorably. 

As an assistant leads their small group out of the meeting room and to their living quarters, Minho finds himself thinking about Jisung’s heart-shaped smile and his twinkling eyes. He’s still debating whether or not it’s a blessing or a curse that his firebending master is going to be an incredibly pretty boy instead of a senior citizen for once until he falls asleep. 

_____

The sun climbs ever steadily higher and higher towards its peak by the time Minho heads out to the training grounds along with Chan, Hyunjin, and Jeongin. Although Minho had been up since dawn, having had an early bird lifestyle beaten into him by his waterbending master, apparently Changbin and Jisung enjoyed sleeping in. 

Eventually, the two firebenders arrive on the field, bringing with them two other boys, with the taller wearing traditional earthbender attire and the shorter wearing the characteristic oranges and yellows of airbenders. 

_ He’s wearing a sleeveless top _ , Minho thinks a little faintly as he tries not to stare at Jisung’s biceps.  _ He’s wearing a sleeveless top and he’s evil and foul and he surely must know what he is doing, and I’m completely, utterly, absolutely fucked. _

The eight young men stand on the grounds, a colorful motley of benders from all four nations, and introduce themselves to each other. The airbender’s name is Felix, and all it takes is one cheerful toothy smile for Minho to reflexively smile back, drawn in by his infectious bubbly energy. Minho sees the tips of Chan’s ears turn the slightest bit pink when Felix shakes his hand and struggles to hide a smirk. 

On the other hand, the taller earthbender—Seungmin, Minho notes— is for the most part, a calming force balancing out the rambunctious energy of the other three, unafraid of sneaking a sarcastic or teasing quip every now and then. 

“Avatar Minho-ssi, Han Jisung at your service.” Jisung extends his hand out with an amicable smile, and Minho shakes it. His hands are warm, and calloused from years of training, and his fingers are a little crooked and he’s just the slightest bit awkward, but it’s all incredibly endearing. 

“Please, call me hyung, Jisung. I don’t really care about formalities.” Minho grins, and then, for good measure, throws in a signature Lee Minho wink. 

Jisung rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling widely and there’s a faint blush resting high on his cheekbones. “Whatever you say, Minho-hyung.”

Grinning, the older claps his hands together. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road. How is this going to work?”

“Well,” Changbin begins, “I know my dad said that I would help in teaching you, but the truth is I promised Nobleman Jung that I would help him out with his administrative duties for the next few weeks, so it’s going to be mostly Jisung teaching you.”

Jabbing a thumb at the younger, who throws up a peace sign, he says, “Jisung over here might not look like much, but he’s the best firebender I know.” 

“Aw, Binnie-hyung, I love you too!” Jisung tries to throw himself onto the other man, who shoves his hand into the younger’s face with an exasperated sigh. 

Rubbing his cheek and pouting, Jisung adds on, “We’ll probably be meeting every day at noon, when the sun is highest, so it’ll be easier for you to channel your power to firebend. Today we’ll just go over some basic forms, it’s no big deal if you can’t bend right away.” 

Minho nods. If firebending goes like how waterbending went for him, he should be able to start bending soon. No biggie. He can do it. 

Seungmin asks, “Since you’re going to be Minho’s teacher, would you mind giving a little demonstration, Jisung?” 

Perking up at the word ‘demonstration,’ Felix cheers, “Yeah, flex on us Sungie!” 

Chan, Hyunjin, and Jeongin had gone off to the side along with Felix, but upon hearing Seungmin’s suggestion, they lean forward in interest. After all, Jisung’s probably one of the youngest firebending masters in this decade, if not century, and they’re all curious to see whether or not he lives up to the rumors that precede him.

Jisung laughs and agrees good-naturedly. Minho’s about to open his mouth to make a witty comment when suddenly Jisung seems to become an entirely different person. His eyes narrow in concentration, dark and serious, and his lips are drawn into a thin line and then his stance shifts just the slightest and—

Minho feels the fire before he sees it. The air around them seems to collapse in on itself, becoming hot and tight; he feels almost constricted in his itchy Earth Kingdom clothes, wishing he had worn lighter clothing like Jisung. 

And Jisung? 

Jisung is fucking  _ beautiful _ .

Surrounded by a ring of fire, he looks like something out of a painting. The flames, bright and orange, flicker as if they are  _ alive _ , dancing around his figure and licking at his ankles. Still, they bend to his will; for while fire is all-consuming, they are nothing compared to this force of nature, this hurricane, known as Han Jisung. Rather than having the flames flare out haphazardly, it’s clear to everyone that Jisung has total control over the fire, manipulating the flames and shaping it until—

A deep breath in, a change in stance and then— 

His hand sweeps up into the sky, bringing with it a column of bright blue flames—Minho doesn’t think there’s been a firebender who was able to bend blue for decades— that leaves Minho instinctively raising his arms to cover his face. And yet, in the split second that it takes him to bring his arms down, the fires have dissipated, leaving in their wake one beaming Han Jisung that bounds over to Minho’s side. 

_ Holy shit _ _ , _ Minho thinks, absolutely floored.  _ This kid’s absolutely insane _ _. _

“So, how’d I do? The techniques I used were really just some pretty basic stances that I modified a little to show off how cool I am, so I’m pretty sure an Avatar like yourself could get it down in no time.” Jisung crows with a cocky smile up at the older. 

His eyes, round and bright, are a far cry from the ones he saw less than a minute ago, dark and gleaming from the reflection of flames. It’s easy to tell that while the younger is cocky, he’s by no means boastful, and Minho finds that he’s smiling in spite of himself. 

He also tries not to stare at the faint shine of his biceps and the drop of sweat rolling slowly down the elegant slope of his neck.

Shaking himself out of his gay-induced reverie, Minho blurts out, “Jisung, you’re amazing.” Anyone can see how talented the young firebender is from his brief display of power alone. “I understand now why everybody calls you a prodigy.”

For the briefest instant, something flickers across Jisung’s eyes, but before Minho can ask him about it, he barks out a laugh and agrees that  _ yes, he is amazing, obviously, how could hyung even suggest otherwise _ ? Behind him, Changbin frowns slightly, but his expression brightens when Jeongin turns to eagerly ask him questions about the Fire Nation. 

“So, Avatar Minho-hyung,” Jisung says cheekily. “Ready to learn how to firebend?”

“More than I’ll ever be, Master Han,” he replies, lips curling up in excitement. 

_____

  
  


Almost a week later, the eight boys are crowded around two wooden tables pushed together at the noodle bar closest to the training grounds. Although Minho hasn’t been able to start firebending yet, Jisung has praised him on his diligence to learning the various stances. 

“So the traders at the border as we were on our way to the Fire Nation were like, ‘We need an earthbender or an airbender to help us.’” Hyunjin continues regaling the group with his story. Flourishing his hands, he pauses dramatically before continuing, “and a few people start talking and then suddenly Jeonginnie stands up and yells, ‘I am a waterbender,’ and the entire trading port just goes completely silent!”

The boys erupt into laughter, even Jeongin, who smiles adorably while threatening Hyunjin with endless pain. As they go around telling stories with plenty of embellishment, Chan leans in closer and closer towards Felix, nodding eagerly whenever he speaks. Jisung and Minho, who are pressed together until their thighs are touching at the crowded table, make eye contact with each other. 

_ Are you seeing what I’m seeing? _

_ Chan-hyung being utterly whipped for Felix? Obviously _ .  _ Homosexuality, am I right?  _

Minho wiggles his eyebrows at him, and Jisung snorts unattractively. 

When their food arrives, Hyunjin immediately goes to start mixing the sauce into the cold noodles for Jeongin, much to the younger boy’s complaint about the babying. Hyunjin pulls at Jeongin’s cheek playfully and he bats the older away while smiling.

In front of Minho, Changbin and Seungmin are engaged in a friendly debate about whether or not the latest showing at the local theater is worth seeing, their stinging words contrasting with mischievous smiles and the fond looks in their eyes. Minho tears his eyes away from their argument upon hearing Jisung's ringing laughter at a particularly funny comment Seungmin had made.

_ He looks good like this _ , Minho thinks. Jisung laughs with his whole body— Minho can see it in the way that his lips part into the shape of a heart, the way that he slaps the table in excitement and leans his forehead slightly onto Minho’s shoulder as if he can’t help but fall into the older’s orbit.  _ He looks good when he's firebending, but he looks the best like this. _

As the eight boys laugh together, bonding over teasing jokes and spicy cold noodles, the tiniest bit of sunlight peeking through the window and warming the worn oak tables, Minho, for the first time since he started training to be the Avatar, finds himself able to breathe.

_____

  
  


Three days later, Minho and Jisung are back on the training grounds. The sun beats heavily down on their backs, and although Minho has found himself in the same light, sleeveless outfits that Jisung wears, in no time at all, his back is soaked with sweat. Even the ground underneath their feet seems to be complaining of the heat, the grass having shriveled up long ago and the cracks in the dirt becoming harsher and more unforgiving with each passing day.

Minho gets into the basic firebending stance, but after pushing his hands out, nothing but hot air seems to come out. As the days pass by, he grows more and more frustrated with his inability to firebend, especially next to Jisung.

For him, firebending seems to come easier than breathing. And, although logically Minho is aware that the younger has been bending probably since he was crawling as a baby, and thus he shouldn't compare himself to Jisung, it's hard, especially given that he's around two years younger than Minho.

As if sensing his growing frustration, Jisung stops. "Why don't we take a break here, hyung-ah?"

Minho sighs lightly, then joins Jisung underneath one of the few trees at the training area, where he's patting the dirt next to him.

"You have all the basic forms down, you know." Jisung takes a long swig of water from his container, then passes it to the older. "It just takes time. After all, you just finished mastering waterbending, it would make sense that you would be in a bit of a rut right now, hyung."

Minho looks down at his fingers. "I know, Jisungie. It's a little annoying, that's all. I feel like I'm not moving as fast as I  _ should _ be, even though I know that it's better if I go at my own pace. That just makes me more annoyed at myself, I guess."

Jisung nods seriously. For all the brashness and playful arrogance and rowdiness he exhibits with the rest of the group, it's clear that he becomes a different person when it comes to firebending.

There is Jisung, the firebending prodigy, and there is Jisung, the friendly jokester and moodmaker out of their friends. Minho wonders which one is the real Jisung, or if there is another Jisung behind these two personas. Despite having only known the younger for a few days, he can't help but find himself wanting to know more about the young man.

"It just takes—"

"—A little patience, I know,” Minho finishes with a heavy sigh. “Hyung won’t let you down, Jisungie.”

“Hyung-ah,” Jisung laughs, not unkindly. “You know you could never let me down, right? You’re already more than enough.”

Shocked, Minho looks up from his hands, blinking at the other. The younger is already staring at him with dark, bright eyes and an expression that he can’t quite place, something in between fondness and something else. 

Finally, Jisung breaks the silence. "Let's talk about something else, then. Get our minds off of firebending for a little bit," he suggests with a wry smile. 

Minho nods weakly. That, he can do. "Have I told you about my owl-cat?" Upon seeing Jisung shake his head eagerly, his dangly gold earrings swinging back and forth, Minho finds himself smiling already, launching into a lengthy explanation. "Well, his name's Dori, and he has two older brothers but I left them both back home at Omashu..."

______

  
  


That night, Minho finds himself staring up at his ceiling.

The moon is full tonight, and her bright reflection casts shadows into his room, painting it in shades of light and dark. He tries not to stare at his own shadow for too long, or else he swears that he starts seeing his previous reincarnations in its place.

He knows that Jisung's right, that since fire and water are opposing elements it would make sense that he would have a little more difficulty starting the beginning of his firebending journey, and that he would just have to have a little more patience, but  _ still _ _.  _ Still.

He learned earthbending pretty quickly, and while it took him a little longer to start waterbending, it still wasn't nearly as difficult for him as firebending is. And after speaking to his previous reincarnation, a woman by the name of Ryujin, he knows that it took  _ her _ less than a day to begin firebending. 

For years, he’s heard praises upon praises about how powerful Avatar Ryujin was, how she was able to bring about the end of the Earth Kingdom Civil War, about how she was a genius waterbender and so on and so forth. 

It’s been exhausting, hiding his frustrations behind pleasant smiles and polite bows, forcing himself to repeat to others that  _ yes, he would try his best to carry on Avatar Ryujin’s legacy _ even as his mind wants to scream that he isn’t the same person as his previous reincarnations.

He had carried his emotions locked deep inside him, letting them build up and fester until one evening, after he had been thoroughly scolded by Master Park, Chan had sat down next to him and told him that it was okay to feel upset. 

That simple sentence, along with a warm, comforting hand around his shoulder, was all Minho needed before he began ranting to his best friend, unloading years of well-hidden frustrations.

_ You know I’m here for you, right, Chan had said at the very end. You don’t need to carry the world on your shoulders. _

_ Minho had nodded and hugged the other earthbender. Still, he couldn’t help but think that, if he wasn’t carrying the world on his shoulders, that he would be a shitty Avatar. He kept that thought to himself, however.  _

On top of that, the world remains, for the most part, in a state of relative peace. There have been no wars, no tensions between arrogant rulers butting heads with each other. No rebellions, or at least, none that can't be resolved locally with a few diplomatic meetings. 

He's grateful, of course, to have inherited a world where his role as the Avatar will be a minor one, but  _ still _ . Still.

What is he meant to even do? Compared to previous Avatars, he's been much slower at learning to bend new elements. And, although he would say that his earthbending is pretty good, he's only mediocre at waterbending, and by no means is he a prodigy like Jisung is for either of the two elements.

Speaking of Jisung, he wonders, briefly, if the younger would have made a better Avatar than he is. On top of being an incredible bender, he has a mature personality hidden beneath a streak of playfulness, but unlike Minho, he's a natural-born public speaker, able to talk his way in and out of anything without so much as a single stumble.

Jisung reminds him of the sun. Of starlight. Of something so untouchable, so far away, that he can’t help but fall helplessly into the younger’s orbit. He finds himself unconsciously looking for the firebender when they’re in the bustling, crowded streets of Capital City, finds himself laughing at Jisung’s dramatic antics, finds himself staring in awe at the way he holds himself with confidence, and more often, finds himself staring in awe at his bending. 

It's annoying. He shouldn't try to be comparing himself to Jisung, someone who’s quickly becoming one of Minho's best friends, and  _ yet _ . And yet. Compared to Jisung, he feels like he's falling behind. 

He shakes his head and pulls his blanket over his head.  _ Better to get some sleep now instead of laying awake all night thinking of your own insecurities _ , he thinks dryly. 

(Minho dreams that he is in a river. He digs his feet into the silt to stop himself from being washed away, and when he looks upwards, both the sun and the moon stare down at him. The heat burns onto his neck and shoulders. When he tilts his head back down, Jisung is in front of him, his back facing the older. 

_ Jisung-ah _ , he tries to say. Nothing comes out.  _ Jisung-ah, wait up for hyung _ . 

Jisung takes a step forward, and then another. The heat is suffocating. Minho blinks, and suddenly the younger is surrounded by the rest of their friends. They wade through the water. Minho tries to take a step forward, but something stops him; he looks down and finds dozens of hands grabbing greedily, trying to drag him back. He blinks again, and then the hands are gone. He stares down at his own reflection, his face distorted by the running water. 

The heat burns. Jisung and the others are gone. He stands alone in the river. The water rushes past his ankles. The heat burns. The gentle bubbling of the river grows louder and louder. He screws his eyes shut. The heat burns.)

Gasping, he wakes up in the middle of the night, his back soaked in sweat, and does not sleep for the rest of the night.

______

  
  


The next day, Jisung is late to training. 

On most days, this is not out of the ordinary, given that the firebender always has to be dragged out of bed or bribed with delicious sweets, but today he is supposed to be in a meeting with other Fire Nation officials— a meeting that was supposed to have ended ten minutes ago. Minho had waited around for around fifteen minutes, trying to meditate before giving up and pacing across the grounds, then decided to go look for him. 

Putting on his best “I’m a serious Avatar and I totally know what I’m doing” face, he peeks around the corners of the palace and tries his best not to look suspicious as he attempts to look for the younger. 

He’s just about given up, having seemingly searched through every nook and cranny of the first, second,  _ and _ third floor, when he spots a very familiar squirrel-looking firebender, along with Changbin and Chief State Councilman Seo, kneeling around a low wooden table in a large open room. Biting his lip, Minho flattens himself against the wall and prays he doesn’t get seen. 

An unfamiliar voice floats by. “How is training with Avatar Minho going, Jisung?” Minho winces slightly, hoping that he doesn’t get called out by Jisung for his inability to firebend. 

Deep down, he knows that the younger would never speak harshly of him, especially since he knows how much effort Minho’s been putting in these past few weeks, but a small part of his heart still braces itself in fear. 

“Well,” Jisung begins, “Avatar Minho has been learning at a really fast pace. He hasn’t been able to firebend quite yet, but his forms are near-perfect and we’ve made a lot of progress in these past few days alone.” Even though Minho can’t see the younger, he can hear the pride swelling in Jisung’s voice. 

His tone is laced with sincerity, a stark genuineness that catches Minho off-guard, as well as something else hidden underneath. Fondness? Perhaps, but not quite. 

He can’t figure it out just yet, and wonders briefly just how Han Jisung feels towards him as he touches the tips of his ears to check if— yep, they’re burning up, and probably red too. 

After Jisung finishes his sentence, hushed whispers begin to echo in the meeting room. One voice, another unfamiliar one, Minho notes, rings above the others. “So you’re saying the Avatar  _ still _ hasn’t been able to firebend,  _ Master _ Jisung?” Jisung’s title is spoken with more than a hint of condescension, Minho notes with distaste, his nose scrunching in annoyance.

“Yes, but—” Jisung’s cut off by the same annoyingly nasal voice. 

“Are you  _ sure _ you’re teaching him correctly? I mean this with all due respect, Master Jisung, but you are young, after all, and I’m sure there are plenty of other older, more  _ experienced _ , firebending masters that Avatar Minho could learn from.”

Jisung starts to argue, but he’s cut off again by another official, this time Councilman Seo.

“I assure you, Minister Park, that Jisung is entirely qualified to train the Avatar,” Seo proclaims. “In fact, I find it a little concerning, arguably suspicious, that you are trying to discredit Master Jisung, especially since we all know that your son-in-law has been vying to train a firebender for several months now.”

At this, the table erupts into loud murmurs of either agreement or discontent. Minho shifts in discomfort, his heart clenching. It’s one thing to not have any faith in himself as the Avatar, and another thing to hear other people express their concerns about his abilities to carry through with his duties. 

Minister Park replies furiously, “Councilman Seo, I find it insulting that you would ever accuse me of trying to discredit one of the best firebenders in the nation. I am just suggesting that—”

“On the contrary, Minister Park,” the Councilman retorts. “Unlike your son-in-law, Jisung has not once in his lifetime struggled with firebending. He’s a natural, a prodigy—”

The argument is silenced with the harsh sound of palms hitting the table. Jisung speaks, his voice barely wavering, “Enough. With all due respect, I must take my leave. I’m late for training with the Avatar.” He stands, bowing stiffly, before exiting. Somehow, he doesn’t see Minho standing in shock as he almost runs down the hall. 

Minho can only stare as he sees the younger rub furiously at his eyes as he makes the turn out of the hallway. Changbin also exits the room in search of Jisung, and the two lock eyes. Minho opens his mouth to try and say something,  _ anything _ , but the words stick to his tongue and scratch down his throat. 

Changbin only nods imperceptibly, as if saying,  _ Don’t talk to him about it _ , before going to chase down the firebender. 

Rubbing his hand over his chest, Minho sinks to the floor. There are a million thoughts racing through his mind right now, but as he runs his hands through his hair, the only thing that seems to stick is: _You weren’t meant to see this. You weren’t meant to see this Jisung._

He flushes with shame and runs down to the training grounds to meet the younger. 

Practice is silent. Jisung is somber, missing all of the playful jokes and light quips that he usually brings, and Minho surreptitiously looks away whenever he notices the younger wipe tears from his eyes. Minho fails once again, and once again he doesn’t speak up to ask for help, and for once, the younger doesn’t speak at all. 

Minho’s stomach sinks.  _ Some Avatar you are _ _ ,  _ he scoffs at himself internally.  _ Can’t firebend, can’t ask Jisung for help, can’t even bring yourself to comfort one of your best friends. Useless _ . 

The sun hangs low in the sky, as if looking back over her shoulder with regret, before leaving the two in silence and darkness. 

______

  
  


Over the next few days, Minho falls into a cycle of waking up, training, eating, and stewing in his own negative thoughts before falling asleep. It’s entirely unlike him— he had always prided himself in being someone who was more straightforward with his emotions, who didn’t let himself get caught up in depressive spirals, but somehow his thoughts continue to eat him up late at night, the only time where he can shed the title of being the Avatar under the moonlight. 

Well, that’s not entirely true. 

Besides in the comfort of darkness, Minho realizes that there’s another place where he feels like he can just be himself: by Jisung’s side. He can’t entirely explain his feelings, but with the younger, he’s able to take a breath. To close his eyes and let his walls down, to take comfort in another person instead of only relying on himself. 

It’s… nice. He’s never felt this way with another person. It’s easy, falling into step with him, the way that the other always seems to know what he’s thinking, simple in the way that he doesn’t need to overthink his role as the Avatar when he’s with the younger. Jisung feels like home, like comfort, like warmth. 

Jisung just feels… nice. 

Minho comes across this realization one evening. They’ve just finished training for the day, and they’re sitting together on the grass watching the sun set. She’s painted the sky in glorious reds and oranges, and the clouds are streaked with the slightest hints of purple and pink. 

Jisung laughs at some wry comment Minho makes, and he sounds like dawn. His ears are tinged just the slightest pink, as are the high of his cheekbones (or that might just be the cast of the sun?) and he smiles widely and unabashedly. 

Here, on the field, watching the sunset, grass between their fingers and wind carding its way through their hair; here, watching the sun cast her final shadows on Jisung’s face, painting his eyelashes in brilliant gold. Here, where their hands are almost-not-quite touching, their pinkies grazing each other every so often; here is home.

_ I like you so much _ _ , _ Minho thinks.  _ I like you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself. _

He wants to tell him that the younger that he’s the one person he can be himself around.

He wants to say, “Jisung, to me, you are home.” 

In the end, he says neither. 

When he looks up from his hands and meets Jisung’s gaze, he finds that the other is already staring back. And there’s so much fondness, so much  _ warmth _ in Jisung’s eyes that Minho feels, inexplicably, naked. 

Raw. Seen. 

He loves it and hates it so much at the same time that he forces himself to look away, turning his head back towards the sunset. Jisung ducks his head down with a slightly embarrassed smile, and the two talk until the moon hangs high in the night sky. 

That night, Minho’s sleep is dreamless.

______

  
  


In retrospect, it makes sense that Minho would have eventually snapped, all things considered. He just didn’t expect for it to happen like this, to  _ him. _

It’s annoyingly hot this afternoon, the sun beating down on Minho’s back and making him wipe the sweat off his forehead every few seconds. Everything about him feels heavy right now. His eyes blink slowly, his arms move into the bending positions sluggishly, and it feels like his feet are sinking into the ground beneath him.  And to top it off, he  _ still _ hasn’t been able to bend. Not even the smallest of flickers, not a single spark, nothing. Nada. Zip. 

And Jisung is patient, perhaps more patient than Minho would have been if he were in the other’s shoes, but his own ineptitude has been wearing down on his nerves and filling the marrow in his bones for so long, and he’s so damn  _ tired _ _. _

Tired of not feeling like he’s enough, tired of feeling like he’s disappointing everyone, tired of having to constantly ask for help when he’s always prided himself on being independent. 

Just so, so tired. 

The bags under his eyes have never felt so deep, and with each of Jisung’s platitudes—however sincere they may be— and as Jisung demonstrates the same positions over and over, Minho feels his patience grow thinner and thinner still. 

The sun burns. Why can’t he do anything right? Why does he have to be such a shitty Avatar—why was _he_ chosen if there are better benders like Jisung, better leaders like Chan, better better better he wants to be better he _needs_ to be better the sun burns the sun burns the sun burns— 

and then, and then—

“Hyung, I know that you haven’t been able to get bending down  _ just quite _ yet, but I was thinking—”

“You didn’t have to say it like that, Jisung-ah,” Minho cuts him off bitingly. He tells himself to stop, to shut up, to treat Jisung better, to treat his  _ best friend _ better, but the words scrape up his throat and fall out of his mouth before he even thinks. “‘ _ Just quite yet _ , ’ I mean. You can just say that I suck. It’s ok. I don’t really give a shit.”

_ No, stop, shut up shut up you stupid fucking idiot, Minho _ . 

Jisung turns to face him properly, his head cocked slightly to the right in confusion and his eyebrows upturned. He feels the slightest twinge of guilt, the feeling crawling from deep in his stomach and settling on top of his chest. 

Then, a look of understanding crosses the younger’s face (because  _ of course _ he would always know what Minho was thinking, even if the older couldn’t figure it out for himself), and he replies tentatively, “Ah, hyung-ah, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” He laughs awkwardly, his hand coming up to rub the back of the neck. 

Stupid, lovely Jisung, always taking care of Minho, always taking care of his hyung in his own little ways. 

And yet, weeks, if not months, of poorly directed frustration, of anger, of sadness, find themselves masquerading as petty bitterness and Minho becomes even more irrationally upset. 

“I know, Jisung,” Minho responds snidely before he can stop himself. “We can’t all be prodigies like  _ you _ .” 

Immediately after, he knows he’s fucked up. 

For an instant, it feels like the sun has flickered out. A thousand different emotions, thoughts, unspoken words flit across Jisung’s face. 

Minho sees the planet stop spinning in the way that Jisung instinctively tucks his thumbs inside his fists—a nervous habit he’d unintentionally picked up from the older. He sees the stars fall from the sky in the way that Jisung bites his lip so hard it momentarily turns white and in the way that his eyes dim, just the slightest. He sees the moon stop pulling the tides when he hears the younger’s sharp, shuddering intake of breath. 

He’s fucked up so, so badly. 

But before Minho can collect the broken shards of his pride and apologize, Jisung’s eyes harden and his eyebrows pinch together. 

“Fuck you, Lee Minho.” His voice is wavering and thick and choked up and  _ spirits _ ,  _ why did he say that, he’s  _ such _ an idiot _ . “I can’t believe I ever—that I ever thought that—” 

But before he can finish his sentence, Jisung presses his lips into a thin, trembling line and turns away, and Minho is left alone under the harsh, beating sun, with nothing but dust and _i’m sorrys_ stuck to his tongue. 

For a moment, he thinks that he’ll cry. Fat droplets hang on the bottom of his eyelashes but refuse to fall. In the end, he tilts his head up at the blazing sky above him for an instant before heading back to his room.

_ Pathetic. You’re so pathetic, Minho _ _. _ He does not correct the voice inside his head. 

The sun burns. 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s late at night when Minho begins telling Dori about his problems. As he scratches under the owl-cat’s chin and pets the top of his feathers, he can’t help but notice that his hand is still shaking ever so slightly. Dori, however, does not mind, and coos as he listens to his owner ramble for hours on end. 

“I really am such an idiot, Dori,” Minho murmurs, lightly scratching the base of Dori’s ears the way he knows his companion likes it. Dori does not respond, of course, because he is an owl-cat. 

He’s halfway through detailing a rather embarrassingly long description of how pretty Jisung’s eyes are when he hears a sharp rapping on the wooden door. Minho snaps his mouth shut, hissing as his teeth clack together. 

Clearing his throat, he calls out, “Come in.”

It’s Changbin. The young firebender looks tired, far more tired than any person should be at this age, and Minho wonders not for the first time how much pressure is being pushed onto the only son of the chief state councilman.

“Can we talk, hyung?” His tone is firm, bordering on harsh, but underneath it there’s a tinge of sympathy. Minho wordlessly pats the space beside him on the bed, and the younger near-collapses onto the mattress.

He cuts straight to the point. “Why haven’t you apologized to Jisung?” Minho winces. Of course.

“I wanted to give him some time to cool off, Changbinnie,” he responds carefully. “I know that I fucked up—I’d be an idiot to not know this—but I had thought that he might have needed some space before I talked to him and apologized.” 

Changbin hums in acknowledgement, but his expression is still sharp and accusatory. It makes sense, of course, that he would be pissed that Minho had upset someone he considered to be his younger brother. He was absolutely in the right to be angry at Minho; hell, he had been mad at himself all afternoon and evening. 

“You know, he hasn’t stopped crying.”

At this, Minho whips his head to stare in shock. “Really? Are you serious? I know that he cries easily, but I had never considered that...” He trails off. 

“Jisung… Jisung’s a good kid.” Changbin scratches the back of his neck. “I give him a lot of flack for being bratty and cocky, but he’s really one of the best and kindest people I’ve ever met. His parents—they’re good friends of my family— moved away to the Southern Water Tribe, over a decade ago, because of work and to live with his older brother, so my dad and I have sort of taken him under our wing.”

Minho knows this much, at least, and makes a hum of recognition. 

“He’s been able to bend since he was crawling, which made him such a hassle to deal with as a toddler,” Changbin explains. “But it wasn’t until after his parents left that his power really showed through. He’s the best firebender in Capital City right now, if not in the entire nation, but because he’s so young he’s put under a lot of pressure, especially by the Fire Lord and the council members.” 

Briefly, Minho thinks back to the scene that he had accidentally stumbled upon a few weeks back. It makes sense, now, that Jisung had the outburst that he had. 

After all, he was barely two decades old and yet under constant scrutiny by older, more powerful politicians, all constantly watching, waiting for him to trip up so they could embarrass him as he had embarrassed them simply by being as talented as he was. 

“I won’t tell you everything—that’s up for Jisung to tell you— but I just wanted to let you know, hyung. He l—he really cares for you, and you hurt him a lot with your words, even though I know you’ve been frustrated yourself.” 

Changbin’s piercing stare cuts from the moon to Minho, who struggles not to fidget under his sharp gaze. “You’ve got to act more mature.”

At this, Minho bristles. He knows that he fucked up, that he was an asshole, but who is Changbin to tell him to act more mature, when he’s been forced to act mature his  _ entire _ fucking life as the Avatar? For ages, he hasn’t let himself slip up in front of other people once, never let himself rely on other people, never once depended on anyone else. 

He’s had the entire world staring at him since he was a kid, had centuries of reincarnations whispering in his ears and curling around his soul telling him of how much  _ better _ he has to be, and Changbin has the audacity to tell him to be more  _ mature _ ? 

Before he can tell himself to be more rational, Minho retorts, “You mean, act like the Avatar?”

Without so much as a single flinch at Minho’s bitter tone, Changbin replies plainly, “No, like a decent fucking human being and friend.” 

With that, he stands up and nods goodnight to the older before exiting the room, the door shutting with a soft  _ click _ . Minho, however, is left speechless. 

He eventually falls back eagle-spread onto the mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling. He’s fucked up so badly, he realizes with a bitter smile. Fucked up so badly with the person that he cares so much for, and without any idea of how to fix it. 

Sleep does not come easily to him tonight. The moon stares, and she sighs, and as she changes places with the sun she asks for her children to be made right. 

______

  
  


The next day, Minho finds Jisung, unsurprisingly, on the training grounds. He walks over and carefully sits down in the space beside the younger, who’s pulling grass from the earth, twisting it between his fingers before letting it fall back down again. 

Neither of them speak for a few moments.

“Jisungie, I—”

“Hyung—”

They both cut themselves off. Jisung offers an encouraging smile, and Minho returns it with a small smile of his own. 

“You go first, hyung.” 

Taking a deep breath, Minho clears his throat and looks directly into Jisung’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I said some really fucked up things yesterday that crossed a line. I hurt you because I was selfish and inconsiderate and I took out my frustrations on you, and you don’t deserve that. You don’t have to forgive me, and I promise that I’ll do better, but I just wanted to apologize.” 

Jisung stares at his palms. “It’s fine, hyung-ah. You didn’t know.”

“I did, sort of,” Minho blurts out. Jisung looks up in confusion, and he continues. “I mean, I was there, that day that you had the meeting with the council members. You were taking a long time, so I had gone looking for you, and…” He trails off. 

The younger flushes with shame. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” 

Jisung nods jerkily and pulls more blades of grass out from the dirt. “Still, I forgive you, hyung. I know that you’ve been frustrated lately. I could tell, from our practices, but I still kept on pushing you and pushing you when what you really needed was a break.”

Shaking his head frantically, Minho replies, “No, you did nothing wrong, Jisung-ah, it was my fault, I fucked up—”

“Will you shut up and let me finish, hyung?” Jisung cuts him off with a playful smile, and Minho realizes, momentarily, that things will be alright in the end. He makes a dramatic gesturing motion, grinning when the younger huffs out a laugh.

Jisung takes a deep breath and continues. 

“Growing up, I always heard that I was a prodigy, the best firebender in a century, yada yada,” Jisung reveals. “It felt nice, at first. All of the adults wanted to talk to me and all of the kids my age were impressed with me, and it felt good to be appreciated, or wanted, I guess.”

“But then things changed once I became a teen. People stopped wanting to be around me because I was me, and they started trying to be around me because I was this ‘genius firebender’ or whatever. A  _ prodigy _ ,” Jisung confesses with a sarcastic smile. 

“And it sucked, obviously, knowing that people only talked to you so they could brag to their friends that they hung out with you, or to reach higher positions in life, but when the other option is complete isolation I just sort of sucked it up.” 

Minho’s heart breaks, just a little. He wonders what it must have been like. 14-year-old Han Jisung, a small boy in a big city, feeling like no one had wanted to like him for  _ him _ .

After thinking for a moment, he pats his thighs wordlessly and gently tugs on Jisung’s wrists. The younger boy lets himself be pulled, laying his head in the older’s warm lap. 

Minho starts running his hand through Jisung’s hair and the younger leans into his touch, sighing contentedly. He resists the urge to coo at how endearingly adorable the boy is. 

He waits patiently for Jisung to start speaking again. 

For him, perhaps, Minho has all the time in the world.

Eventually, he continues. 

“Then I passed the mastery exam at 18, and I became the youngest person to become a firebending master in a century or so,” he professes. “After that, Mr. Seo started bringing me to council meetings, and I was kind of forced into politics, even though I like this sort of stuff way less than Seungminnie or Changbin-hyung.”

Minho makes a small noise of acknowledgement. So that's why he had been in those meetings from the start. He continues carding his fingers through the younger’s hair, smiling fondly at the little hums of content that Jisung makes every now and then. 

“People always think that because I’m some genius prodigy or whatever, I’ve never had to try at anything. That bending was a breeze, or something. It comes easily to me, but growing up I put in hours and hours of practice every single day just so I could reach where I am today.” Jisung laughs bitterly. “Changbin-hyung, Seungminnie, and Lix have found me passed out on the training grounds or the dining hall more times than they can probably count. 

I’m better at taking care of myself now, but I still have this fear—that one day I’m going to mess up and people are going to realize that I’m not the genius bender they always say I am. That I’m just some ordinary kid. It’s kind of stupid, I know.” He rushes out the last part, almost as if he’s expecting Minho to call him silly, or immature. 

He wonders how many times people had told Jisung that his feelings were stupid in the past, and feels his heart break a little more. 

Thinking of his own worries, Minho immediately replies, “Your feelings aren’t stupid, Jisungie.”

Jisung turns to look up at the older, his eyes bright and curious, and Minho goes on. 

“For the longest time, I felt like a shitty Avatar, and sometimes, I still do.” Jisung opens his mouth to protest, but before he can say anything, Minho squishes his cheeks together with a smile so that he can only pout adorably up at the older. “ _ Hush _ , Sung-ah, lemme continue.”

He takes a deep breath. “I felt like a bad Avatar because I always end up comparing myself to other people, like you, or Channie-hyung. And everyone always talks about how amazing Avatar Ryujin was, and how they are looking forward to seeing if I live up to her legacy, and it just gets so exhausting trying to be someone that I’m really not.” 

“Because of that, I always tried to be someone who was independent. I wanted to prove—I don’t know to who—that I could be enough, all on my own. But I really, truly do suck ass at firebending,” Minho admits sheepishly.

“And it’s been really frustrating for me always having to ask you for help, and to put in so much time and effort and not see the results reflect that. You know that hyung’s not really good with words—”

Jisung cuts him off with a teasing smile. “I know hyungie’s got trouble being vulnerable, but thats okay~”

Minho slaps a hand over the younger’s mouth, cursing loudly when Jisung licks his palm. The younger sticks his tongue out playfully, and he can only roll his eyes and try his best to keep the fondness out of his voice as he calls Jisung a brat. 

“As I was saying,” Minho pointedly glares at Jisung, who smiles brightly, “I’m not the best with words, and I need to work on that. I’ve been really upset with myself because I haven’t been able to firebend, and it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you.”

Before Minho can continue, Jisung sits up and slaps  _ his _ hand over the other’s mouth, proclaiming, “Hyung-ah, you sound awkward when you’re trying to apologize! I’ve already forgiven you, so let’s just not be awkward anymore, okay?”

Minho nods silently and Jisung beams, throwing his arms around the older’s neck and causing both of them to fall backwards onto the grass. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around the younger, holding him in place so they don’t roll around as they hug. 

Eventually, once they’re both lying down and facing each other, Jisung asks carefully, “Hyung, what does firebending mean to you?”

Minho answers immediately. “It’s power. It’s about asserting your power over other people.” He thinks of his grandmother, who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up badly burned by a firebending robber. He thinks of attacking, of pain, of the scorch on his back every single day. 

“Mmm...wrong!” 

Minho throws a look of bewilderment at the younger, who nods thoughtfully to himself. 

“Everyone thinks that all firebending does is attack, or hurt people,” Jisung begins. “But it’s really not that at all.”

“It’s about… the sun. And of course the sun can be harmful, but it helps support all life in our world as well. And it’s also all about energy too, like conserving it and releasing it at the right time,” Jisung explains, gesturing with his hands. “Everything’s cyclical in nature, but I think firebending is more like two sides of the same coin.”

Minho hums in contemplation, and the younger takes it as a sign to continue. “Firebending’s kind of like...hm. It’s kind of like light! It’s destruction, of course, but it’s also about creation, and the sun, and energy, and power in a good way, power that can help other people.” 

Jisung finishes his speech with a small, proud smile up at the older. 

There’s sunlight that finds its way through the leaves of the tree they’re under and catches on Jisung’s eyelashes and soaks in his irises. There’s a few stray blades of grass stuck in his hair and a small daisy that he had stuck behind his own ear and he looks so beautiful that Minho’s breath catches in his throat. 

He looks down at the younger who’s almost curled up against his chest like a very pleased cat-owl, and he’s suddenly overcome with such  _ fondness _ that he doesn’t know what to do. 

_ Jisung, you  _ are  _ firebending, _ he thinks.  _ You are light, and you are the sun. You shine so brightly that sometimes it hurts to look at you, but still, I find myself in your orbit. You make me feel alive. _

And this realization, somehow, does not even come as a surprise to him. Rather, it feels like sinking into a warm bed, or like coming home. 

(Earth, fire, air, water; life begins and continues and ends and continues again. Cyclical in nature, and yet, there are times in which two things coexist simultaneously. Creation and destruction, yin and yang, sun and moon.)

Jisung rests his hand on Minho’s chest. If Minho takes that hand and interlaces Jisung’s fingers with his own, and if they are left alone for the rest of the day whispering easy nothings and childhood stories and strange dreams and favorite foods to each other, then who is he to complain?

______

  
  


Minho has a good feeling about today’s training. He had woken up to Dori rubbing affectionately against his arm and had eaten lunch with Chan, Felix, and Seungmin before heading out to the training grounds. 

Also, before Jisung had left for a series of “incredibly boring” meetings with Changbin, he had brought the younger a plate of cut up fruit for breakfast. And, in his excitement, Jisung had quickly pecked him on the cheek as thanks before scurrying away with a flushed face, leaving Minho standing in the middle of the doorway with scarlet ears and a hand pressed over the spot of warmth that had bloomed where Jisung’s lips had touched. 

But that is neither here nor there, obviously. 

And now, all eight of them are on the training grounds, with Minho and Jisung on the dirt fields and the others sprawled under various trees chatting idly. 

“Okay, hyung, we’re just going to start off with some basic forms, sound good?” Minho nods resolutely, and the two ready their stances. 

“Now, remember what we talked about yesterday, and push one hand out.”

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. 

Minho, for once, does not think of the inevitable pain that comes with fire, does not think of the scorching heat on his shoulder blades and the back of his neck, does not think of pain and of destruction. 

Instead, when he closes his eyes, he sees Jisung.

Jisung, leaning onto his shoulder at the noodle restaurant, laughing so hard that his eyes crinkle into crescents. Jisung, draped in the golden hues of sunset staring into the distance, oblivious to Minho’s fond stare. Jisung practicing late into the night, with his calloused palms and slightly too-dry skin. Jisung smiling up at  _ him _ , looking up at  _ him _ with so much affection and sincerity that it fills him with warmth and with starlight. 

Exhale. He sees Jisung and, for the first time, firebends.

It’s not much, really, the slightest puff of a flame coming from the palm of his hand. And yet, it is enough. Minho stares in shock for a moment, and is only brought out of his reverie by the various whoops and cheers coming from his friends. 

And then there’s a blur running at him, and  _ oh _ , it’s Jisung excitedly jumping into his arms. On instinct, Minho wraps his arms around the younger’s waist (was it always so small?  _ focus! _ ) as Jisung laughs delightedly and ruffles his hair. 

They stay like that, for a moment; for an instant, they are no longer Avatar Lee Minho and the genius prodigy Han Jisung, but instead, just Minho and Jisung. 

Time slows.

Minho shifts his hands so they’re underneath Jisung’s thighs for stability as the younger wraps his legs around Minho’s waist. Jisung’s still smiling down at him, heart-shaped smile on full display, delight etched onto every feature of his face. He has one hand resting on the back of Minho’s head, the other resting lightly on his shoulder, and as Minho tilts his head up ever so slightly, Jisung leans down.

Inhale, exhale. Jisung’s face is so close now, and his full smile turns into something softer. A smile reserved just for him. Minho’s eyes slip shut, and—

“Hey, gay people!” Changbin hollers from a distance. “Stop flirting and start firebending!” ( _ As if the cockblocking menace has any right to talk, Minho’s  _ seen _ the way he looks at Seungmin _ ) . 

Jisung flushes bright red and scrambles to get himself out of Minho’s arms and back onto the ground. Minho doesn’t even need to feel the tips of his ears to know that they’re also red, and when the younger whips around rambling about how much work they have left and the different stances they need to go over, Minho flips off the cackling firebender. 

For the rest of the afternoon, Minho can’t get the proud, adoring look on Jisung’s face out of his mind, and even well into the night, his hands remember the warmth of other’s body and the way they pressed into his waist. 

(If he dreams about kissing a certain endearing firebender, then no one else needs to know.)

______

  
  


That weekend is the first in a while that all eight of them have been free. Changbin’s luckily been able to weasel his way out of his duties with Nobleman Jung for the next few days, and Seungmin has a week off from his internship with the diplomat.

They’re at the noodle shop, again. Some things are the same. 

Hyunjin and Chan are still complaining loudly about the spiciness of the cold noodles, the former chugging water like a madman and the latter trying and failing to have a conversation with Felix while wheezing uncontrollably. Changbin and Seungmin are still chatting away, again, in hushed tones and fond smiles.

Jisung and Minho are pressed up against each other, as always. Minho offers a slice of meat to the younger, who pries it out from his chopsticks using his teeth with a satisfied hum, as always. 

But now, it’s as if there are spider web threads hanging around the two, delicate silk that hangs with dew when they smile at each other silently. Strings that draw them inexplicably closer, the two tangled up in glances when they think the other isn’t looking, as well as in flustered laughs every time their eyes  _ do _ meet. 

Same, but different. Two sides of the same coin. Familiarity and newness, intertwined, tangled up in spider silk. 

Eventually, Jeongin and Jisung leave before the rest to go back and purchase a gift for the young waterbender’s grandmother that he had seen earlier. 

As Minho stares at the space that Jisung left behind, the chatter of the other boys fades into the background. 

Unlike Jisung, he’s always been someone who preferred action over thought. Part of him wants to follow through with that action, to lean over and tell him how he feels. To be able to hold hands with the younger without fear making them spring apart, or to be able to lean down and kiss Jisung’s full cheeks whenever he pleases. And yet. Every time he opens his mouth to confess his feelings, he stops. Because, perhaps, he is afraid of losing his best friend, the one person in his life who truly sees him— all of him. The Lee Minho who is the Avatar, fearless and brave. The Lee Minho that teases his dongsaengs and treats them to fire flakes even when it’s late at night. The true Lee Minho, the one that he’s never shown to anyone else. 

To have that taken away from him, swiped out from under his feet because of the fact that Jisung might not feel the same way is, to put it simply, terrifying.

So  _ maybe _ he’s done more thinking than doing in the past few weeks. Sue him. 

A large explosion startles Minho out of his musings, the worn wooden frame of the building shaking and spilling sawdust onto the tables and floor. In an instant, he, Changbin, and Chan are running out of the door. 

“I’m coming too.” Hyunjin stands up, but his balled fists are trembling just the slightest. “Jeonginnie’s still out there.”

Chan shoots him down instantly. “Stay here, and make sure that Seungmin and Felix and the other people in the restaurant are safe. We’ll make sure that Jeongin and Jisung are okay.”

For a second Hyunjin looks like he wants to argue, but in the end he nods tightly, and the three start sprinting in the direction of the blast. 

The winding streets of Capital City have never seemed so narrow, and the buildings never so tall, when they reach the source of the explosion. 

In the middle of the street, Jisung is single-handedly up against three earthbenders, his eyes constantly darting back and forth as he effortlessly switches between offensive and defensive positions. 

On the side, Jeongin’s trying to protect the old shopkeeper and the other customers in the store, his arms held out defensively in front of them. Around them, parts of the nearby buildings have collapsed onto other bystanders, leaving dozens of people injured or trapped.

Minho starts towards the fight, ready to even the playing field a little, but before he can even begin, Changbin grabs his wrist. 

“We need to make sure everyone’s safe first, hyung. Jisung can handle this.”

Desperately, Minho’s eyes scan Changbin’s face to make sure that the younger is telling the truth, before nodding resolutely and heading towards the most damaged parts of the street first.

While Chan and Minho earthbend bigger parts of the concrete and brick off the ground, Changbin pulls people to a small alley, where Jeongin’s busy trying to heal the most major injuries with his bending. 

It’s an efficient strategy, and together the four have managed to ensure that almost everyone on the street is away from the battle when Minho glances over to Jisung. 

His heart stops in his throat.

“Jisung, behin—” He calls out frantically, but he’s not fast enough, and one of the three earthbenders has managed to lift the cobblestone beneath the firebender, launching him against the wall. 

Jisung collapses to the ground and does not move. 

(Minho’s grandmother had once told him that hundreds of years ago, there was a tribe of firebending warriors, pairs of lovers who always fought with each other, their backs facing. Tragically beautiful in its own way, and yet the warriors had always claimed that no person fights like how they fight for their lover. 

Minho had never understood the purpose of the warriors, only nodded and ooh-ed and ahh-ed at his grandmother’s dramatic stories. Until now, that is. 

It is an almost universal truth that the thing about heroes is that their love stories never end well. That in the end, no matter what happens, they would have to give up their lovers in the name of justice, of duty. Of selflessness. Rinse and repeat. Cyclical. 

He is tired of having to put up the front of Avatar Minho. Tired of putting others before himself, tired of scraping every last bit of kindness in his heart and giving it to the world, leaving nothing for himself. He wants to be selfish, just this once.

Things do not always occur linearly, contrary to popular belief. Sometimes, they exist simultaneously, even if just for a moment. Love, in this case: selfishness and selflessness. Give and take. Sun and moon.) 

The avatar sees red. In an instant, Minho brings up twin earth walls on each exit of the street, trapping himself and the three earthbenders in. It seems that they don’t recognize him, because the attackers are all sporting extremely smug grins, shooting forth large stones in his direction. 

Internally, Minho scoffs. _Please. As if._ Effortlessly, he throws up barricades of earth that cause the rocks to crumble, and then, slashing his leg through the air, he sends a wave of flames in their direction. 

He smirks upon seeing their faces all drop in a synchronous  ‘ _ oh, shit _ ’ moment. After that, it’s an easy fight. He draws out a thick rope of water from a nearby bucket with one hand, snapping it like a whip in the direction of an earthbender while firebending towards another thug with his other hand. 

The whole time, he can’t get the image of Jisung’s limp body out of his head, and with each passing moment his anger grows greater and greater.  _ How dare they. _ When he throws out fire with every kick and slash, the flames grow more and more hazardous, flickering and lapping desperately as if straining to be controlled.  _ How dare they how dare they how dare— _

“Minho!” Chan’s voice rings out. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” 

He stops in his tracks, panting, centimeters away from the last remaining thug. Setting his jaw, Minho stares with disgust at the pathetic man trembling on the ground for an instant before knocking him out with a swift punch. 

While Changbin goes to tie up the incapacitated earthbenders, Minho nods at Chan. “Any idea why they attacked the shops?” 

The older sighs. “Apparently a few people on the street owe a gang money, and these asswipes,” he jabs a thumb towards the unconscious men, “were sent out to intimidate them.” 

“I’ll try and see if I can talk to the council after this is all over, see what I can do,” Minho reasons. “Maybe we can increase patrols in this area or a neighborhood watch.”

He runs towards Jisung’s direction, who’s currently being healed, his head propped up against a pile of clothes. It’s clear that he’s fighting the pull towards unconsciousness, but even still, his eyes brighten when he sees the older.

“Hey, Jisungie.” Kneeling, Minho gently takes Jisung’s hand—the one that isn’t currently being treated by Jeongin— and intertwines their fingers.

“Hey yourself.” Jisung half winces, half smiles up at him. Despite the fact that he’s in pain, he still tries to play it off; the only indication that he’s hurting is when he squeezes Minho’s hand so tightly that it turns white.

“What am I going to do with you, Jisung-ah?” Minho sighs. “Always putting others before yourself, always so reckless.” 

His tone is chiding, but both he and Jisung know that it’s just a facade, put up to hide all of his fear and concern. The firebender chuckles, then grimaces in pain. 

“I have nothing to worry about,” Jisungs whispers. “You’re here.”  _ With me _ goes unspoken. 

“Of course, you idiot.” Gently, Minho brushes his fingers over one of the cuts on his forehead. There’s so much blood that he doesn’t know where to start, and Jeongin’s been working on Jisung’s wrist for so  _ long _ . “Hyung—hyung’s here. Don’t worry anymore, okay? Hyung’s got you.” 

Jisung leans into his touch, mumbling out an “I’m glad you’re here, hyung-ah,” before his eyes slip shut. 

Minho doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he sees the teardrops hit Jisung’s cheek, rolling down quickly and sliding onto the cobblestone. They fall slowly, and then, as if a dam was broken, all at once— he cries brokenly, openly, sobs wracking through his body as if finally being released after years and years of being hidden behind false smiles. 

For the first time since he found out he was the Avatar, Lee Minho lets himself cry.

______

  
  


Minho’s been pacing back and forth across the hallway for the past three hours. They’re still waiting on the nurse’s permission to go visit Jisung, and with each passing minute he feels himself grow more and more fidgety.

“Chill, hyung,” Changbin tries to reassure the older. “He’ll be okay.” Despite his relaxed demeanor, the firebender has been unconsciously twisting his ring and drumming his fingers incessantly against his arms. 

Everyone’s on edge— how could they not be? With the moodmaker of the group currently incapacitated, it seems as if a dark cloud has settled over the seven boys, weighing heavily on their shoulders. 

After what seems like an eternity, the door swings open.

The nurse peeks out. “The majority of Jisung-ssi’s external wounds have disappeared, thanks to the work of the chief waterbender healer in the infirmary, as well as to the Jeongin-ssi.” She nods gratefully in the young man’s direction, who smiles shyly. 

“Still,” she continues, “he suffered a minor concussion and broke his wrist, so we’ll keep him under observation for the next few days before releasing him. He’s very lucky to not have been injured too terribly.”

“Can we see him, now?” Minho blurts out, then hurries to tack on, “please, ma’am.” 

The nurse’s steely eyes—undoubtedly a result from years of witnessing violence first hand—soften when they land on the Avatar. 

“One at a time,” she acquiesces. 

Chan claps a firm hand on Minho’s shoulder. “I think he’ll want to see you first, Minho.”

“Are you sure? I mean, he probably wants to see Changbin, or—”

The other boys retort simultaneously, “Just go!” 

Chuckling softly, Minho holds his hands up in defeat and enters the room. The other seems to be drowning in a pale blue tunic, sitting up against a small cot on the side of the room. Upon seeing Minho, he brightens, exclaiming, “Hyung!”

“Hey, Jisungie,” Minho smiles warmly and runs a hand through the younger’s hair, sitting down beside him. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better now that you’re here, hyung-ah,” Jisung smiles up cheekily with a wink, then whines when Minho pulls at his cheek with an eye roll. “Hey, hey, you can’t be mean to the cute injured guy, that’s the law of the kingdom, everyone knows that!”

As if they can’t help themselves, the corners of Minho’s lip tug upwards into a smile. “Says who, you little brat?”

“Me, obviously.” Jisung cups his face like a flower, batting his eyelashes dramatically, and Minho barks out a delighted laugh. 

“Sure, princess.” At the endearment, Jisung beams even wider, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I’m going to assume your greasiness means you’re feeling all better, then.”

“Yup!” Jisung lifts up his arm, examining the cast around his wrist. “The nurse said that it’d take a week or so for my wrist to fully heal, but everything else is pretty much back to normal.” 

Minho smiles. “I’m glad. I was really scared for a second, you know. Those thugs did a real number on you.”

At that, the firebender frowns, his eyebrows creasing as he glares at the wall. “I’m annoyed at myself. They’re literally so mediocre at bending— I thought that I’d be able to handle them all, hyung.” He blows up at his bangs in frustration, then chuckles bitterly. “Some prodigy I am, right?”

Without batting an eye, Minho flicks Jisung on the forehead. 

“Ow!” Jisung whines, rubbing at the stinging area dramatically with a pout. “What was that for, hyung?”

“‘Cause you’re an idiot, Jisung-ah.” Minho brushes away the younger’s hand and rubs his forehead in apology, steadfastly ignoring the way that Jisung smiles up at him. 

“You’re literally barely an adult, and you were just one person going against three grown ass men— don’t try and cut me off, you know I’m right,” Minho argues. “Just because you’re a ‘prodigy’ doesn’t mean shit can’t happen sometimes. You can’t be perfect all the time. I’m just glad that you’re safe.” 

His voice trails off at the end, and he rubs the back of neck awkwardly, internally cringing at his unexpected candidness.  _ Nice, Minho. Real cheesy of you. _

Jisung, however, doesn’t seem to mind, judging by the way that he bursts into laughter. “You know what, hyung? You’re right. Fuck them for ganging up on little old me.” 

“Fuck them indeed,” Minho muses faux-philosophically, and the two collapse into giggles. 

As a comfortable silence blankets them, Minho, again, finds himself looking at Jisung. And, as always, Jisung is already staring back. He’d always been so bold, so unabashed and earnest in his emotions, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. This time would be no different. Minho’s heart aches at the way Jisung’s eyes always seem to search the earthbender’s face, as if committing it to memory. 

When they lock eyes, everything stills. 

The light streaming through the window casts Jisung in warm gold and bronze, turning his eyes into molten copper and making him seem younger. Softer. He gazes up at Minho so fondly, with so much wholehearted affection that Minho has to swallow a lump in his throat. 

He looks so pretty like this, his eyes holding the night sky and the sunlight brushing herself over the curve of his cheek. 

_I want to kiss him,_ Minho thinks. _I want to kiss this boy so bad._

And, stupidly, he blurts his thoughts aloud. 

“Jisungie, can I kiss you?” 

“Huh?” 

As if shocked by lightning, Minho almost leaps backwards, but Jisung’s hand catches his wrist in the nick of time. Still, he finds himself backtracking, scrambling to explain himself. 

“Well, you see—uh, you know, Jisungie—” Minho closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, half-expecting the younger to be staring at him with confusion, or worse, disgust, he finds that Jisung is grinning so widely that the room lights up.

“Jisung-ah, I like you.” The words tumble out of Minho’s mouth. “A lot. You know hyung’s not really good with words, and—dammit, I had planned for this to be more romantic— but you make me really, really happy. Truly. I love your smile, and your kindness, and the way that you put up with all my bullshit, and—”

Jisung cuts in. “Yes.” 

Dumbly, Minho responds, “Yes what?”

Jisung tugs on Minho’s wrist until both of his hands are planted on either side of the younger. “Yes, you can kiss me, hyung.” 

“Oh. Great.” Minho grins dopily and leans in. Jisung, as always, meets him halfway, surging up to brush their lips together. 

Jisung’s hands cup Minho’s cheek like he’s something precious, his lips moving slowly against the other’s. It doesn’t feel like fireworks, or anything else Minho’s brain had conjured late at night. 

When they kiss, it feels like spicy cold noodles after practice. It feels like grass between his fingers under the tree in the evening. It feels like the sun and moon finally meeting, like the sweat rolling down the back of his neck under the heat, like wind carding its way through his hair. Like Jisung. Like home. 

Once they finally part for air, Minho rests their foreheads together. 

Jisung grins cockily. “That means I like you too, by the way, hyung.” 

“Oh shut up, you brat. I don’t even know why I put up with your annoying ass.”

“I may be an annoying ass, but this annoying ass is all yours~” Jisung sings obnoxiously, then shrieks as Minho tickles his sides in retaliation.

Eventually, Jisung stops laughing for a moment to flip the two of them over with surprisingly strong thighs, straddling the older’s lap with a triumphant grin. On instinct, Minho’s arms come to rest on his waist, keeping him steady as Jisung leans in again. 

This time, Minho kisses him with a little more urgency, a little more desperation. When he swipes his tongue across the seam of Jisung’s lips, silently asking for permission, the younger acquiesces easily. 

Jisung kisses like how he does everything else: wholeheartedly. As he loops his arms around the older’s neck, tugging on his hair in a way that sends a shiver down his spine, Minho bites Jisung’s bottom lip as revenge, silently revelling in the way that he gasps and whines quietly. 

Minho eventually leaves Jisung’s now-swollen lips to trail kisses across his jaw and down his neck, his nerves turning into molten lightning at the way that the younger tilts his head back and the little noises of pleasure that leave his mouth. 

He contemplates leaving a small mark at the base of his neck when the door swings open. 

“Chan-hyung,” Jeongin calls out gleefully. “Jisung-hyung and Minho-hyung are making out!”

The two spring apart, Jisung frantically crawling off Minho’s lap with a flushed face as they hear a chorus of cheers, general noises of disgust, and surprisingly, the grumbling that accompanies a reluctant exchange of money  ( _ oh man, he hates their friends so bad _ ). 

Still, even as the other boys swarm Jisung’s hospital bed and start chatting away, Minho can’t stop smiling. 

  
  


_ fin. _

______

an epilogue, of sorts: 

It is no secret that Minho babies Jisung despite constantly complaining the whole time, much to the younger’s amusement. 

(“You didn’t have to make me ramen, I was just joking, hyung-ah.”

“Shut up, you’re literally incapacitated. I’m not doing it again.”

“It’s only a broken wrist, hyung, I’m not in a full-body cast.”

“Brat.”

“ _ Your _ brat.”

An indignant sniff and a faint blush.)

Even now. Jisung sits in between Minho’s legs, the two of them on the same field that they always are, staring at the sunset. As he leans back against the other’s chest, sighing blissfully, Minho plays with their hands where they’re resting on Jisung’s stomach. 

When Jisung twists around, his eyes are shaped into crescents, so full of affection and of love that Minho’s heart stutters in his throat. He tilts his head up, brushing their lips together— a soft, gentle thing, just to remind each other that they are here together, that this is real. As he leans back, he’s smiling that same soft smile that he reserves only for Minho.

And then their little bubble is burst because: 

Jisung frowns thoughtfully, a little crease forming between his eyebrows, and he asks Minho seriously, “Hyung, would you ever consider bloodbending?”

“Huh?” Minho looks at the younger a little strangely. “Why would you ask that, Jisungie?”

“Well,” Jisung taps his chin in contemplation, but the corners of his lips are twitching up, betraying his amusement at his own humor, “I think you would be a good one. Do you know why I think so?”

A long-suffering sigh and eyeroll. “Why do you think so, princess?”

“Because you can bloodbend  _ this dick _ —”

“Oh my god, you insufferable, gross loser, shut up!” 

After Jisung’s roaring cackles die down, he scratches the bottom of Minho’s chin the same way that he does with Dori, cooing annoyingly until Minho bats his hand away. Giggling, Jisung peppers kisses all over his face— three on his cheeks, one on the faint freckle on his nose, two on his forehead and one on each of his eyelids— until Minho finally gives in with an exasperated huff and pulls him closer for a proper, deeper kiss. 

When they finally part for air, Jisung cups the older’s face with an extraordinary degree of gentleness, the final rays of the sun casting him in a halo of light. 

“I hate you so bad,” Minho grumbles. 

The younger beams. “Love you too, hyung.”

After Jisung twists back to settle against Minho’s chest so they can both catch the last few moments of daylight, Minho leaves soft kisses against the back of his neck and the slope of his shoulder. 

In a few months, Minho will have to leave again, this time to the Southern Air Temple to learn and master the final of the four elements. After that, he’ll probably be travelling the world again, meeting with leaders of all four nations, before returning to Omashu to spend time with his grandmother and his other two owl-cats. 

But that is neither here nor now. Today, all of his duties, all of the uncertainties of the future, are more than a distant, far-away dream. 

Today, it is just Jisung and Minho. Not Jisung the firebending master, and not Minho the Avatar. Just Minho and Jisung. 

Because, in spite of everything, they are the same. Different, and yet, the same. 

Minho thinks,  _ In spite of everything, I am still me _ _. _ The realization feels nice. Everything just feels  _ nice _ . Like home, and warmth, and sunlight. 

(Scientifically, it makes no logical sense: both the sun and the moon rise from the east, and set in the west. Every day, every night, for all of time. An endless, glorious, unyieldingly beautiful cycle. 

And yet, there are special occasions. Moments, brief flashes in time when one may think that the two celestial bodies touch for just an instant, in which case the cycle is broken. 

Like now, when a young firebender by the name of Han Jisung takes the hands of a young Avatar named Lee Minho and intertwines their fingers underneath the sunset. After all, in the end, nothing is linear, and Lee Minho and Han Jisung are no exception.) 

  
  


_ solis; luna; fin. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much! as always, kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
